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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848025">xeno</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityrisings/pseuds/cityrisings'>cityrisings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Experimental Style, Extended Metaphors, Flying, Gen, Kinda, Personified Cities, Strangers, Urban Fantasy, but like not urban fantasy it's just me rambling about cities</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:28:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityrisings/pseuds/cityrisings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>(n.)</em> the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—moments that are fleeting and random but still contain powerful emotional comfort that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>xeno</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The city is alive. Mark can hear the sirens wailing in the distance, smells the grease of the street and fat of the food vendors, sees the neon lights blur together as he looks over the scene from the top of one of the numerous skyscrapers that reside in this city. 

This city. Filled with people that hold more secrets than meets the eye, and characters that lurk the dark side streets in this castle of everlasting night. As the wind ruffles his dark hair Mark turns from the scene before him, eyes glinting like tinted bulletproof glass, takes a deep breath, and—</p><p>Falls. The footsteps fall in between pants of breath as Donghyuck flits through the darkened streets with nimble long legs he’s still growing into, bypassing rusted trash cans stuffed full with forgotten memories and bitter endings. Neon hues reflecting off of the slippery cement are interrupted by the shapes of ratty converse. He has to run. Running is the only way for him to escape the foaming waves crashing around him, consuming him whole, washing away his past, his future, his world—</p><p>His home. Is his home the first place he says hello to, or the last place he can say goodbye from? Try as he might, Mark can’t help but chew his lips in nervous anticipation, rough fabric sliding against his skin as he takes off into the night. He has no home, not anymore, so he soars, young wings beating against the breeze of life. The city now reveals itself to him, a glittering blanket of dark forms. Tucked between each of those lights is a beating heart, a life, a story to be told. These are the ones who have homes. But not Mark. Not yet, anyway. There’s nothing left to hold him back, so just fly, fly, fly, but don’t fly too high, make sure you are—</p><p>Careful. Don’t move a muscle. One slight mishap, a hitch of breath, a heartbeat out of rhythm, is all it takes for everything to come falling down. Harried footsteps passing by sends ripples across the puddle-streaked cement, and sweat travels down Donghyuck’s temples, down the plane of his round cheeks, and joins with the tears dripping out of his eyes that are trained on the brick wall in front of him. They can’t find you. Not like this. Donghyuck is rooted in the ground, back hunched as bandaged fingers tie grimy laces together before walking out into the alley and into a world of color. One mistake is all it takes, so don’t mess this up, don’t act as if you have—</p><p>Forgotten. He’s forgotten that everything that goes up must come crashing down. The high wears off, and Mark realizes the city, once grand and full of vitality, is simply an empty vessel for the hundreds, thousands, millions of lives that are in it. He reminds himself that he likes the city, the vibrant, evolving lifestyle, and the privacy that the shifting crowds and bright lights give to the restless eye. He likes to walk down the bustling streets to see various pedestrians hurriedly crisscrossing the glittering sidewalks and to devise a story where he becomes a part of their lives right then and there, no questions asked. But sometimes, <i>sometimes</i>, the city becomes so empty despite the lives it contains. He yearns. Can he ever find himself in the middle of this metropolis? Mark can see the stars, and they whisper that everyone that lives in this city will, sooner or later. After all, everyone is in the same place. Everyone is—</p><p>Alone. He’s alone here. The colors reassemble into the evening rush hour when streets drag on so slow that Donghyuck could slip between traffic headed toward the city center and cross to the other side unharmed. Groups of women and men dressed to the nines wait at crosswalks. Their voices laugh, muttered words disappearing with the bay breeze as their phone screens light up their faces and the city beyond. He feels a familiar sensation in his chest. When a blanket of stars falls upon the city he begins to feel inexplicably lonely, and he sees this in others— solitary buskers who continue to play their instruments with fingers chilled by the dark— entertainers of the night, serving others first and then themselves as an afterthought. He likes to imagine that he, too, will have a place in their society, one day. He wishes them well. </p><p>He looks up to the sky and wonders what it’s like to see the stars.</p><p>-+-</p><p>As Mark dangles his legs from the edge of the low-rise he’s sitting on, he observes the people below. Right there, in the middle of the sea of strangers, is a young boy his age, looking right back up at him with eyes the color of the fluorescent lights glowing between them. They lock eyes and, for a moment, the world stills. </p><p>His city. Their city. They rise and they fall, like the feeling of exhilaration worn down from constant use. Like the breath of two boys sleeping beside each other. Like the feeling of two souls, connected at last with widened eyes, before finally, gently, slowly settling down into a quiet content. Their city <em>breathes</em> with an ebb and a flow, like tides that are coaxed to reach for the moon. At the end of the perpetual night, their city breaks into a muted dawn, and the cycle begins again. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>baby bird's first ficlet!! look at me go. i've always had a fascination with large cities (coming from a small suburban town myself) and today my preoccupation became so intense that i had to get it out onto a doc. if you've read this, i love u very much and hope you felt something out of this ♡</p><p>unbeta-ed bc this is just a silly little thing that should be appreciated in all her flaws hehe</p><p>please tell me what you thought! i'd love to hear it :&gt;</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/amorsichengs">twt</a> <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/amorsichengs">cc</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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